Morning came slowly. Draco wished he had brought a book to read, or even a journal to write in. He decided that the second Flourish and Blotts opened, he would get a new set of travel quills and a nice journal. And maybe an owl, for the sake of having a companion and a way to reach Narcissa.

His journey into Gringotts was uneventful. He almost flinched when the goblins glared at him, but kept his composure and asked to be taken to his vault, where he retrieved enough money to buy the journal, quills, owl, and what he thought would be enough to buy or at least rent an apartment.

Then he set off to find the apartment. Every place he looked was suspiciously "not accepting new tenants, especially ones without a job," so Draco decided to start with searching for a job instead. Olivander's was closed, semi permanently. The manager of Flourish and Blotts flat out refused him entry, not that he expected anything better.

And then he saw a small sign sitting in the window of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Ocassions. It read Now Hiring: Apprentices for Small Fee or Free. See Madam Malkin for more information. Draco felt his stomach flip over, but straightened his back and walked into the shop.

The shop was smaller than he remembered, or maybe he had grown taller. It took him a minute to find Madam Malkin among the racks of robes.

"Madam Malkin," Draco called out tentatively, wondering if he should mask his voice a little.

"Mr. Malfoy," Malkin responded quietly, not turning around from her sewing. "How may I help you today?"

Draco gulped and ran his fingers through his blue hair. "I saw you had a sign for apprenticing, and uh. I was interested?" By the end of his question, he was whispering and starting to curl up upon himself.

Malkin looked up from her sewing machine and inspected him cooly. "And you are not here to kill me?"

"No ma'am." Draco shook his head fervently and tugged at the sleeve covering his Dark Mark.

"Sit and we will negotiate."

Draco watched silently as she transfigured a lonely old sewing machine in the corner into a three legged stool at the end of the table she was sewing at. It was some time before she spoke again.

"What experience with sewing do you have?" she finally asked.

"None. Well, my mother embroiders, and I've watched her do that, if that counts?" Draco's voice trailed off again.

Fixing him with a curious expression, Malkin continued. "Apprenticeship, especially from nothing, requires a minimum of seven years before you will be considered a tailor. Can you give that commitment?"

With another gulp, Draco said, "Yeah."

"Who will be paying for your apprenticeship? I do not accept Deatheater money."

"I will be. I…" Draco paused, took a deep breath, then continued, "I have renounced my family name and am looking to make my own path."

"Let me see your mark." Malkin did not phrase this as a question, and Draco knew it was coming. This was why he had hidden in the Manor since Potter had gotten him and Narcissa out of danger. But he rolled up his sleeve anyway, and showed her the Dark Mark. It had faded some, but was still dark and disgusting as ever.

"You must have that covered before you begin your apprenticeship," Malkin continued after she had taken a long look. "I can give you the name of a tattoo artist who specializes in cover-ups."

Draco nodded.

"I do not take Deatheater money. You will have to work for your apprenticeship."

Draco nodded again, a little quicker this time.

"I want you here every morning an hour before the shop opens to sweep and dust. During the day you will work directly with me or with one of my machines to learn the process of sewing and tailoring. After the shop closes you will sweep and dust again, and complete any chores I have for you. Is that clear, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Alright. Come back when you get that… thing covered."

Draco nodded one more time, then stood, and extended his hand to Madam Malkin. She did not take it. She looked at him with vague amusement instead, and wrote the name of the tattoo artist down for him.

Before leaving, Draco turned back to Malkin and asked, "may I make one request of you, ma'am?"

Malkin looked back at him expectantly.

"I am not a Malfoy. Call me Potter, or Draco, or boy if you must, but do not call me a Malfoy."